The invisible foot is the foot that white people have on the necks of blacks, Native Americans and others. It is called invisible because whites say they do not see it.

Race in America, a brief history: whites knocked blacks and Native Americans to the ground, beat them up, took their money and then put their foot on their neck. At first the foot barely allowed them to breathe. Now they can breathe more freely (what whites mean by, �It�s not as bad as it used to be.�) but the foot is still there. In what follows I will take just the case of blacks to keep it simple.

White people deny the foot is there:

They see the foot in past but not the present. So blacks must be imagining it.
They say blacks were not knocked down � they have always been down.
Or they were knocked down so long ago that no one alive can be blamed for it and, besides, blacks should have got up already! If they have not, that just proves there is something wrong with them. Maybe they were just born that way. Or maybe their Culture or Values are at fault. Certainly not any foot on their neck.
Oprah and Obama and other blacks standing up proves there is no foot on the necks of black people. Whites do not need to change a thing. Blacks just have to try harder! If they are good at standing up then they can go to a private school that will teach them how to stand up! So there is hope.
Jews and Asians are standing up, so what is wrong with black people?
They say blacks are just as evil - even though there is no black foot on their white neck.
The press sometimes runs stories on blacks who are lying on ground. They almost never say anything about the foot � or bring it up just to wave it off. Lying on the ground has little to do with white people.

Whites wear special glasses: Super Duper Racist Spectacles Tinted with Moral Blindness. Wearing these special glasses they cannot see the foot.

That money in their pocket? It just kind of got there by accident. Or through Hard Work. Or Free Markets. Or some other lie their parents and teachers taught them to say. It certainly did not come from blacks and natives: look at how poor they are!

Some blacks want at least part of the money back. They call it Reparations or something. But giving back any of it is Impossible. Besides, living a lie pays so much better.

But out of the corner of their eye, where they can kind of see how the world looks without their glasses, they sometimes see the foot. And deep down they know why they keep it there: They are afraid that if they remove it they will be knocked down, beat up, robbed and have a foot on their neck.

Invisible butt plug man.

Only ever popped off premature once. Never had a wet dream, which I kinda regret. Never came in my pants.

I had a friend who did though, while we were watching an old Swedish Erotica clip at a bachelor party back in the day. Back then you still needed a screen and a projector. Pat had never had a real girlfriend, had never gotten a handful, not sure he’d even kissed a girl. The movie was on and we were all shouting at it like we knew what we were talking about. Sticks in my mind that it was an old Seka loop (this was the early 80s) and she was about to get it in the ass. Just as the heavily-mustachioed ‘hero’, parted the posterior of his equally hairy companion, you heard Pat say, “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no! Fuck!” and off he rushed. We teased him unmercifully, although we were no doubt hard as stone as well.

It started out as an easy day. Kansas in the summer. Hot in the morning. Hottest in the afternoon. Hot all night. I finished mowing the lawn and was walking down the to gas station for a ‘pop’. There were girls and young women laying out on a couple of lawns taking advantage of the morning sun. To a youngster like me, it was like viewing heaven and I was hard all the way to the pop machine and back. But you’d better believe I took the same route home.

The swimming pool opened at 1 and I spent the day at the pool. More swimsuits and sun-tanned flesh. Bikinis. One pieces. Lifeguards. Our regular lifeguard was a beauty named Julie and she had this light pink bikini that I could describe to you still. It was almost transparent enough for you to believe that it was. To this day though, I’m sure I could describe her patch to you, so maybe it was more transparent than I remember. Fuck. Hard off and on all afternoon and all the way home on my bicycle.

Home in time for dinner. No time to jerk off. Talk about a build-up. Looking back at it now, if I knew then what I know now, I would have assumed that if I came at that moment, I’d be completely dehydrated.

That evening I had to work at the concession stand at the local ball diamond. Softball double-header. There were usually of couple younger people, like me, and a couple of older people. That evening one of the teachers from the local elementary school was on. Mrs. Barker. We used to sit up in my buddy’s old treehouse and watch her sunbathe on her deck, which she thought was invisible to the rest of the world, so she sunbathed naked. She didn’t know about the treehouse. Man. Every time I brushed against her that evening, and it wasn’t always an accident, I was hard. Being as old as I am now, I wish it was still that easy.

I was so amped-up and so miserably horny that I rushed out before we were done cleaning up. Fumbled some excuse about not feeling well and bolted.

There was this little bathhouse just past the outfield, but the man was locking it up so I ran over the bridge over the creek and started through the trees to head up the hill to this little shelter, an old, stone, WPA-built picnic shelter thats table was long since gone. I knew that all it would take was a few strokes and I’d be fine.

My cock was banging up against my belly and I could feel each step in my balls as I ran. I was picturing Julie without her bikini and Mrs. Barker without her shorts and t-shirt. I was picturing those young women on the lawn asking me to join them. I was picturing all kinds of things as I rounded the corner into that picnic shelter and dropped my shorts.

And there, like a live-action porno movie, three feet from me, was a guy I knew from the local mechanic shop where my folks had always taken their car to be serviced.

I can still picture it. Like me, his shorts were down. Kneeling in front of him was Tina, someone I knew a little but we didn’t run with the same crowd so I didn’t know her well. She was a mousey, quiet type, lean and angular, with a bookworm’s reputation and who had never gone to school dances when we were in the same school.

She was wearing cut off denim shorts, flip flops, and a softball jersey. The jersey was unbuttoned and pulled back and I could see the curve of her breasts. I could also see Junior’s calloused, mechanic’s fingers were tangled in her hair and it was obvious that his cock was in her mouth to the root. Her hands were wrapped around his waist and were clutching at his ass.

He looked up and grunted, “What the fuck? Hey! Val! Hey!”

The one of her eyes that I could see met mine and she went down a little further on what must have been a very hard cock. I didn’t actually see her grin but I’ve always felt like she did.

And then, like my friend Pat, I stuttered, “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!”

I can’t begin to tell you how much I came. I didn’t touch myself and no one touched me. But I came all the same. Long, ropey streams of which I can still picture. I hit her softball jersey, her hair, his hand, her face, his leg, and the tops of her thighs.

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

Bobbing down quick, I grabbed the waistbands of my shorts and underpants and yanking them up over my still dripping, still hard cock, I muttered, “Oh hey! Hey, Junior. Tina. Sorry!” And I ran.

That night at home, in bed, with the lights out, I came again. And again the next day. That night I made a call.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Is Tina there?”

“Yeah, Tiiiiiiiiina! Get your ass over here! Phone’s for you!”

“Hello?”

“Hey, Tina, it’s Val, I was wondering . . . “

“No. I’m not busy tonight. Whatcha got in mind?”

“Ummmmm, maybe we could . . . “

“Sure. Pick me up at 8?”

“I . . . “

She’d already hung up.

I rolled my old Ford up to her house a few minutes early and she was already on the porch. Dressed exactly the same as last night. Might even have been the same softball jersey.

“Hey, Val!”

“Hey.

“Junior’s pretty pissed at you. You know why, right?”

“Because I came on his hand?”

“Because you came on his hand. And his shorts. And his leg. And then you ran off.”

“What were you doing with Junior, anyway?”

“He has a nice dick.”

“He’s twice your age.”

“He has a nice dick.”

“I didn’t know you were into that.”

“Into what? Sex? Older guys? Dick? I like dick and it likes me.”

“I guess I just didn’t know.”

“I keep my head down and my mouth shut. That’s how bad reputations get started.”

I laughed. “You do NOT keep your mouth shut!”

“And you’ll know exactly how much I don’t, as long as you keep yours shut. Deal?”

“Deal.”

I am a cute, skinny little CD, with a secret wardrobe of the tiniest, sluttiest little skirts, mini-dresses, panties (G-Strings/thongs), stockings, bras and of course killer high heels. I am also a bit of a night owl, and being dressed like a half naked slut in a place where I could get caught, really turns me on.

At night, 3 or 4 am usually, I will get dressed up in my most ridiculously slutty outfit and walk out into the communal landing of my apartment building, there are 4 apartments on my floor. There is a fire-escape balcony bit where people will sometimes go out to smoke, part of it is lit and part of it is quite dark and secluded.

3 or 4 nights a week, I will slip out there, praying that nobody will be out there or wandering around at that time of night. My heart will be pumping and my gorgeous shaved cock will be straining inside a tiny pair of panties.

Last night for example, I teetered out of my apartment in towering, sexy high heels, a tiny denim skirt, (the bottom of my ass cheeks clearly visible as I walk down the long public corridor) my smallest thong (almost invisible mint green piece of silk) sexy school girl over the knee stockings, and a tiny pink and white tank top covering my bra.

I got to the smoking area which is half indoor half kind of out door, where I stood, sexily smoking a cigarette, knowing that anyone could walk in and discover me any second. My bladder as planned was purposefully full to bursting and I stood there in public and started gushing sweet warm piss into my little panties, soaking the front of my skirt, all down my amazing sexy legs, soaking my stockings and gathering in my slutty heels.

I then pulled off my completely soaking panties, while standing in a puddle of my pee, the thong fell into the steaming piss puddle as i tried to remove them. I then took one end of the little green panties and stuck an inch or 2 of material into my tiny sweet asshole.

I then crouched down, pulled my skirt way up around my belly, and with one hand in the pee puddle and another on my cock, I lay back and stroked my sweet, gorgeous, circumcised, freshly shaved cock until exploding all over my belly in the communal area.

I then teetered back down the hall to my apartment with my skirt still up around my waist, my ass, cock and cum/piss-drenched belly and legs on full display.. with sexy little green thong soaked in piss and clearly visibly hanging out of my sweet assshole, swinging from side to side as i tip toed back to my place.

I do this kind of thing, with variations quite a few times a week if my gf isn't over. (Last week I took an empty water bottle with me, emptied my sweet piss into it.. drank a quarter of the contents of my bladder and then literally poured the rest of the warms sweet piss over my head and down the front of my sexy minidress)

I'd love to talk to other sluts like me.. and I will take orders from and real men (or any women too, why not?) I will be your sissy little piss and cum slave.. i'll do whatever you want. What do you think would happen to me if i was caught? Does anyone else get up to this kind of filthy fun, or something similar?

Looking forward to hearing from you.. even if it's just to abuse me for being such a sissy, piss-stained, slut.

xxxxxxx

Once before, I saw this woman that was so beautiful to me, she was so authentic and perfect in every way to me that other women became invisible. From that very moment I realized If she by my side I could accomplish anything and she was a true better half to me. I always knew she was the only person I would ever want and love unconditionally forever.... forever in my heart she will always be,
After 19 years of marriage she was killed in a car crash 3 years ago and the picture of this girl makes me feel that way all over again. I searched my late wife's picture and i was amazed to see your face and a little embarrassed because you are nude I am guilty of wanting you sexually I never would have gone to any sex site. but I was so turned on and attracted to you I wanted you to know how special you made me feel. I will just fantasize about you and if i had a clothed picture of you, maybe My penis would stop throbbing and oozing for you. God, I hope die feeling this way. Sweet dreams beautiful.
If your ever in Charleston, SC I would love to show you our wonderful city and my southern gentleman charm. This is real and genuine from my heart and thanks for taking the time to read it.
Sincerely,

Seth Alexander
110 carolina blvd
Isle of Palms 29466
1-

If god really loves YOU, he must have a real hard-on for all those people he slammed into a mountain at 600 miles an hour.

Get over yourself, just cos you got lucky and survived the shark attack or whatever don't mean you're special, just means you're so full of shit the shark spit you out.

Got a piece of mail the other day, addressed to the former occupant. so I opened it, o'course, and it was a little tiny pack of mineral oil sent by a church for him to anoint his pointy head with, all for a donation of....... NINETY DOLLARS!!!!! 'Cept it was called a 'love offering' .Stupid fucker, 90 bux a bit much for unscented baby oil.

I used the oil to masturbate to anencephalic child porn, listed here : http://www.wihood.com/V301D7D8 ,

then came in an envelope and sent it back to them. How's THAT for a love offering?

Next Morman or Witness makes me zip up to answer questions about the magic talking invisible superhero who is gonna solve all their problems, I'm taking their lips for a souvenir.

fuckin whackos. Almost as delusioned as us.

Eve’s Cell
Eve woke up after a short time of sleep, for her existed no differences anymore between day or night. The room was lighted by a twilight, the source of the light invisible above her. She was laying on her side on a bed made of concrete, only covered by a plastic mattress, it was dirty, even when she entered the cell long ago, and she could smell the odor of the last prisoner who had rested here. Now her body excretions had covered it even more. Carefully positioning her body upright, she seated slowly up. She was a little cold, because she was completely nude, exposed to humid and mild-temperatured environment of the dungeon. When she was imprisoned long ago, she was forced to strip and never received any sort of clothes anymore.
But she was not completely bare: Shackles, chains and rings were fixed on her body. First there was a steel belt on her waist, containing various rings and eyebolts around it's circumference. Her slender wrists were also shackled, the hands were joined in front of her body, each wrist circled by a bright metal cuff, pressing firmly in the skin, the cuffs were joined by a metal bar, with a short chain which was fixed at the belt. So her hands were hold in the same position the whole time. She had no chance to move them up or down. Also her thumbs had been fixed together by cuffs, covering half of each finger, the cuffs were welded together, so she has not possibility to move them. She moves her hands and fingers a little bit, they are swollen, cold and numb, and the pain begins to pass trough them. She feels the constant pressure of the hard metal into her tortured skin. Looking down on her legs, she notices her ankles, which were locked in the same way, lying side by side, a bride shackle running around each ankle. From between her feet, a longer chain is running down to the floor, connecting to an eyebolt in the center of it. She moved her feet up and down, it was difficult, because also her big toes were joined, like her thumbs, swollen and numb.
When she moved her upper body, she noticed the weight of the small chain which connected her nipple rings. When she was brought in the dungeon, they pierced her nipples, with really huge needles and then fixed the rings there, each one shining clearly and with a reasonable weight. After attaching the chain between them, every movement of her body is transmitted directly to her nipples, which were erect and hard most of the time. They had grown up, meanwhile her breast had got smaller because of the weight loss.
After sitting up she moved her hands and feet more and more. They are cold and numb in her so-called morning, she has to reanimate them. When they had closed the small and very tight shackles around her wrists and ankles them, by welding, it had been necessary to press the metal firmly together. After a while, the skin was bruised by the constant pressure, and circular wounds developed. Her hands and feet began to swell on, the shackles were cutting even more in the skin, and she lived very painful days. But after a while, the situation got better, now the intense swelling had gone, and the pain was bearable. At the borders of the cuffs, the bruised skin is covered with crusts and old blood.
Then she stood up upon her feet and the pain at her ankles got worse and she moaned. She looked down at her slim legs, her once slender and now swollen ankles, and her slightly swollen and blueish feet. She moves up and down on her toes, cautiously, feeling the throbbing of the hard metal on the bones and tendons of her ankles. What a feeling! She wore these shackles since a long time, it must be years, and will do it for the rest of her life. She imagined that there must be more cells und other prisoners, shackled the same way like her. This idea excited her a little bit. Sliding slowly on her soles, straining against the weight of her chains and against the pain, Amber moved to the other wall of her cell. She did not know how long she has been imprisoned in this dungeon, but it mattered little. She was not sentenced, and was not counting her days. She would spend the rest of her life in this cell. Her shackles and the waist belt had no locks, they had been welded on to her body long ago. She has not seen her jailors since she was locked into her cell long ago- food and water is dropped from a chute into a basin in the side of her cell. She had to eat and drink like an animal, bending her body forward.Dragging her ankle chain, connected to the center of her prison, she does her daily, slow lap around and around the cell. It was the only exercise she got, and the only way to fend off the decease of her body.
After a number of laps, finally squatted down against the back, stone, moist wall of the cell. Extending her legs, she stared down at her feet. She always has been proud of them, slender and elegant feet with long toes. Now, they have changed their aspect, her ankles swollen and covered with the scaring crusts. What a torture! She slowly raised her bare feet, higher and higher, until the sudden jerk of the chain restricted any further freedom. Tears started falling from her eyes. She furiously pulled on her wrists, before jerking them up against the chains repeatedly. She sobbed and cried in frustration, her struggle was in vain, there were no chance to get free. Still crying, she returned to her bed of straw in the corner of the cell. Her wrists and ankles are on fire now, hurting like hell. Blood is running down from crusts which have been broken. From now on she avoided any movement of her body. The cold was coming back slowly, also the numbness, beginning in her fingers and toes. Later her hands and feet would feel like being frozen. If she started to move them, the pain will come backYears and years from now, she would still be locked in this dungeon forever chained and shackled, never to see freedom.

WWYD if you was invisible? Love this scene gets me so horny I'd love to do the same! 

POV: your hot cousin doesn’t know you have invisibility. What do you do?

Earlier this week, the nebulous and notorious international Internet hacktivist collective known as Anonymous exposed a large ring of Internet pedophiles.

Operation Darknet

Tuesday, after hacking into lolita City, a darknet website used by pedophiles to trade in child pornography, Anonymous released usernames and other information of 1,589 pedophiles trading in kiddie porn.

A darknet website is a closed private network of computers used for file sharing. Darknet websites are part of the Invisible Web, sometimes called the Deep Web, containing content that is not part of the Surface Web, which is indexed by standard search engines.

In Tuesday�s Pastebin release, Anonymous enthusiasts explain the technical side of how they were able to locate and identify lolita City and access their user data base. In a prior Pastebin release, Anonymous offers a timeline of events detailing the discovery of the hidden cache of more than 100 gigabytes of child porn associated with lolita City.

What would you do for kicks if you could be invisible for a day?